Will You Come Home?
by booklover4816
Summary: After a family argument, a certain level-headed duckling makes an impulsive decision that sends his family into panic. Inspired by a prompt from tumblr.


"Will you just please come home?"

The air between them was heavy as Louie waited for an answer to the question. The only sound coming from the other end of the phone was static, leading him to believe that either the line was dead or that his brother had hung up on him.

Though he would never admit it aloud, Louie was worried about Huey. Of all things, the youngest triplet had never, ever expected his older, more responsible, studious brother to run away from home. Truthfully, none of them had.

But regardless of their expectations, they had all been blindsided when they had woken up and noticed that Huey's bed was empty, meaning he had run away in the middle of the night. He had been gone for who knows how long before anyone realized he was missing. He could have gone anywhere, and they had no idea where to start searching.

But really, they should have seen it coming after everything that had happened: Dewey and Webby's revelation, Uncle Donald's admission, Scrooge's anger and the fight that had followed between the old billionaire and the oldest triplet.

Out of all of them, Huey had taken the truth about their mother, Della, the hardest. He had accepted the fact that they were orphaned long ago, but he always had harbored resentment towards their mother for leaving. He never wanted to talk about her because he was afraid of what would happen when they found out the truth. And what had happened four days ago, was Huey's worst fear realized: the revelations about Della from their uncles had shaken up the whole family dynamic, which had robbed the eldest triplet of the sense of security he craved so desperately.

"I-I d-don't think I can," Huey finally stammered after what felt like forever. Though Louie couldn't see, he was sure that his brother was on the verge of tears, if he wasn't crying already.

"What do you mean you don't think you can?" the youngest demanded through gritted teeth. "You're like ten, Hubert! You can't live on your own! You need someone to take care of you! Besides, Uncle Donald and Uncle Scrooge are going crazy trying to find you. They're worried sick!" He hesitated for a moment before mumbling softly as an afterthought, "We're all worried sick..."

And that was the truth. Everyone in McDuck Manor was going out of their minds with worry. They had no idea where in the world Huey was. He had left with no note or explanation of some kind. As a matter of fact, had Louie not happened to be near the phone by pure chance when it rang, they wouldn't know if he was even still alive or not.

The world was a dangerous place, and while Huey was the most capable out of the triplets (and second most capable out of all the kids in the manor), that didn't mean that he was immune from all the dangers out there. Scrooge had a lot of enemies who would love to hurt a member of the old duck's family. There was also the whole "stranger danger" thing they had been taught about for as long as they could remember. Their teachers and Uncle Donald loved nothing more than to scare them by telling them all about what the dangerous people out in the world loved to do to kids who were all on their own.

There was a guilty silence on the other end of the line. Louie knew deep down that Huey never meant to scare anyone. Truthfully, he knew for a fact that his normally level headed brother had acted on sheer impulse, and now he was in so deep that he didn't know how to get out of the hole he dug himself into. Hurt didn't allow for rational thinking.

Huey wasn't impulsive like Dewey. He wasn't bold like Webby. He wasn't a smooth talker like Louie. He knew he was in deep trouble when he got home, but he was more afraid that his family, especially Uncle Donald, would hate him for terrifying them like that. And while Huey could handle any punishment Uncle Donald and/or Uncle Scrooge dished out (a necessary skill with Dewey and Louie as brothers), he couldn't, he wouldn't be able to handle it if his family hated him.

"I d-didn't m-m-mean—" Huey began tearfully, but he cut himself off with a broken, guilt-ridden sob, which caused Louie to wince. Any doubt about this being a stupidly impulsive decisions on the older triplet's end was instantly erased at the sound of his distressed cries.

"It's okay, Huey," Louie said softly. "I know you didn't mean to scare us. Just please, come home so we can talk about this as a family." He hesitated for a moment. "I-I know what we found out about Mom a few days ago was really messed up and it pretty much shattered the trust between Uncle Donald, Uncle Scrooge, and all of us. A-And I know it really hurt you, but it hurt Dewey and me too. We know what you're going through. Please, Huey, just come home and we'll deal with this together. Please. We're so worried about you. I… I can't lose you too."

Huey's breath hitched. Louie held his. The silence between them was deafening as the youngest triplet waited for a response from the oldest. Louie began chewing his lip nervously, something that he had been doing so often over the past few days that he was just reopening the scabs over and over again. The familiar metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he waited patiently for Huey to say something.

"Louie…" the oldest triplet said hesitantly. There were so many unspoken things between them. The green-clad brother could tell that his brother was trying to figure out a response, regretting acting on his impulsive decision more and more with each passing second. The hole Huey had dug himself into was so deep that Louie believed not even he would have been able to talk his way out of it.

"Louie," Huey repeated, his voice full of steely resolve, indicating that he had finally figured out how to respond to his younger brother's heartfelt pleading, "I love all of you — I really do, but I'm not coming home. At least, I'm not coming home right now. I just c-can't. Not after everything that happened."

Louie felt something inside him crack. His heart began pounding angrily and his blood seemed to begin to boil. The edge of his vision began to turn bright red.

After everything he just said… He just poured his heart out, and this was Huey's response. Couldn't Huey see how much pain he was causing? How could he be— How could he be so— so—

"Selfish," Louie snarled through gritted teeth, before speaking louder. "You're being so freaking selfish right now! How can you do this to us? Do you even care how much you're hurting us? Uncle Donald cried himself to sleep last night! Uncle Scrooge won't even meet any of our eyes! Dewey just sits around and stares at the wall all day because he feels like he could have, he should have stopped you! All Webby does is look at maps and study your room for clues as to where you could be! Don't you see how much pain you're causing right now?! You can fix all this by coming home, but you won't because you think that you were the only one hurt by what Uncle Scrooge and Uncle Donald said about Mom! Well, news flash! You're not!"

He was vaguely aware he was shouting, but he didn't care. He was just so angry. Angry that his mom left them. Angry that Uncle Donald had lied to them their whole lives about her. Angry that Uncle Scrooge didn't tell them what had happened. Angry that Dewey and Webby were sneaking around behind everyone's back, doing what they did. Angry that Huey just ran away from it. And angry that he couldn't do anything to change what had happened.

Huey let out a heartbroken sob, causing Louie to forget his anger. Guilt immediately washed over him as he remembered that his brother was trying to deal with his own hurt, and snapping at him the way Louie just did wasn't helping anything. He had to remind himself that Huey — the most responsible, level-headed triplet of the three brothers — never, ever meant to cause the hurt he did.

"Huey," Louie said in a shaky voice, tears beginning to well up in his own eyes, "I didn't— I'm so— I'm sorry, Huey. I didn't mean to yell at you like that."

He heard Huey sniffle on the other end of the phone line. "N-No, you're right. You have every right to hate me. I shouldn't have called; this was a mistake. I-I'm sorry I hurt you even more. I promise I won't cause you guys any more pain."

"Huey, wait!" the green-clad duckling cried, but it was too late. His pleas were meant with silence, and this time, Huey had hung up the phone, cutting off their connection.

He felt his legs give out beneath him as he let out an anguished sob. He wanted so, so badly to go back and change all this. He would give anything, anything to have Huey back.

* * *

"And that's why I would prefer to stay here with you. At least, until this all blows over."

José Carioca took a long drag off his cigar as he mulled over the story the young duckling had just told him, considering the final statement very carefully. He had no idea how his American friend's young nephew found him — or even how he knew who José was to begin with — but if he knew Donald, then he knew the duck was going out of his mind, worrying himself sick about Huey. After all, the boy snuck out in the middle of the night, bought a plane ticket to Brazil, somehow managed to actually board an airplane as an unaccompanied minor, got himself past customs, and wandered around God only knows where for a day before finding his way to José's apartment in Rio de Janeiro by himself, all without Donald's knowledge.

The parrot just shook his head. "I'm not sure this plan was thought through, was it, menino?"

Huey looked away in shame, becoming suddenly interested in the ground beneath his feet. José could see the tears welling up in the duckling's eyes, giving him his answer. He knelt down so that he was eye level with the young boy. Carefully, he gently nudged Huey's chin up so that they were making eye contact.

"Huey," José said softly, "your tio, Pato Donald, is one of my closest amigos. And I know for a fact that you and your brothers are the most important things in the world to him. Why, whenever he and Panchito and I were on adventures around the time you all were hatched, all he could talk about was how he was going to be a tio. He was so proud and excited. You weren't even here yet, but he already loved you unconditionally. I am a tio myself. I know how he must worry over you, especially since he is your guardian. Can you imagine how worried he is knowing that you're not at home right now?"

"B-But I can't go home," Huey mumbled tearfully in response, avoiding the question he already knew the answer to.

"Não? Why do you think that you can't go home?"

The duckling's beak quivered slightly. José had a feeling that it had been doing that a lot over the past few days. Huey was nothing more than a child — a child who had gotten himself into a situation that he didn't think he could get out of. It was all the more proof that he desperately needed his Uncle Donald, which meant that José needed to convince him to go home.

Of course the parrot had no intention whatsoever of letting Huey just waltz out the door and trust that he would get on the first flight back to Duckburg. Right now, he could tell that the duckling was distressed over something that happened at home, and emotional distress never translated into rational thought. Besides, Donald would never forgive José if anything happened to one of the his beloved nephews. Rio de Janeiro, as much as the parrot loved it, was no place for a ten year old to be wandering around by himself, especially a ten year old in Huey's current emotional state.

Either José himself would be personally escorting Huey home or Donald would have to fly down to Brazil and pick him up. But before that could happen, the duckling needed to be reassured that everything would be all right; otherwise, this running away incident would only repeat itself, and next time the boy may not be as fortunate.

"I can't go home because I've messed everything up!" Huey bawled. "Uncle Donald's never going to forgive me for running away! Louie already pretty much told me that he hates me, and the others probably do too! They're better off without me!"

He collapsed to his knees and started to sob desperately. He wholeheartedly believed that he had lost his family's love, which he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case after everything he put them through. He was full of absolute self-loathing for inflicting such a horrible pain on his family. He just wanted to get away from them after what had happened only days before, but after talking to Louie, he realized that they deserved so much better than him, so it would be for the best if he wasn't in their lives anymore.

A look of sorrow appeared on José's face. He knew what the young duck had just told him wasn't true. He was absolutely sure that Huey's family didn't hate him, especially Donald. In fact, José knew it was one hundred percent impossible because there was absolutely nothing that any of his friend's nephews could do that would make the duck hate them. Donald was just that kind of guy.

But he had his work cut out for him if he was going to convince Huey that his family still loved him. "You have not eaten all day, sim? Why don't we go get some dinner, and you and I can talk."

* * *

"Come on, pick up the phone."

José leaned against his kitchen counter as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. It was well past midnight in Rio de Janeiro, and he had sent Huey to bed hours ago, which meant that it was probably past midnight in Duckburg. Perhaps they had all gone to bed? But knowing Donald, that was unlikely.

He had spent hours trying to figure out what he would say. It was no secret that Donald had a temper, so how did José break the news that the duck's missing nephew was in Brazil without setting that temper off?

He was just about to hang up when he heard a click on the other end of the line. Somebody had picked up. "Hello?"

It wasn't who José was expecting. Whoever answered the phone was a woman with a British accent. Obviously not Donald Duck.

"Olá. My name is José Carioca. I would like to speak with Pato Donald. I mean, Donald Duck. Is he there?"

The woman sighed. "Just a moment please." There was a rustling coming from the other end of the line, and he heard the woman say, "It's for you."

"Hello?"

"Donald! It's me! José! José Carioca!"

"José?! How did you get this number?" Donald demanded. He had given both Panchito and José his cell number and the number for the houseboat's landline a long time ago, and perhaps José should have called one of those, so he was naturally confused as to how the parrot found the number for McDuck Manor. Scrooge didn't exactly publicize it in Duckburg, let alone Brazil.

"It's a long story, meu amigo. You may want to sit down."

"Who's José?" a young girl's voice asked in the background on Donald's end.

"Only Uncle Donald's cool friend from Brazil!" a boy's voice exclaimed eagerly in response. "Are you coming to visit, Uncle José? Is Uncle Panchito coming with you? How's Brazil? Did you go to the Olympics last year? Do you still like soccer? Why don't you call more often? How's—"

"Settle down!" Donald barked, clearly annoyed at his young nephew's questions, though José really didn't mind. It was true he and Donald hadn't spoken for a few years as the parrot was busy with his singing and the duck was busy raising his nephews. The last time he actually saw Donald was when the three boys were four or five; he and Panchito had flown up for Donald's birthday that year. "You kids should be in bed anyway! Now, Joe, tell me exactly how you got this number."

"Well…" he hesitated. He still wasn't exactly sure how he should go about this. It might be better to just rip the bandage right off. "Your sobrinho, Huey, gave it to me this evening."

"Um… Did he just say Huey gave him this number?" another boy asked. José realized Donald must have the speaker on.

"Be quiet, Louis," the first boy scolded.

"Don't call me 'Louis,' Dewford," the second retorted. The two boys must be Donald's other nephews.

"Knock it off, guys," the girl told them.

"I see," Donald said softly, ignoring the three kids. It was the kind of softness that set off the alarms in José's head. The duck was trying to rein in his anger. "And where exactly did you happen to cross paths with Huey?"

José gulped nervously. "Rio de Janeiro. He showed up on my doorstep this afternoon and is sleeping in my guest room right now."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dewey said in shock, "Huey, our Huey — the one who practically lives and breathes the Jr. Woodchuck Guidebook, that Huey — is in Rio de Janeiro? As in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil? That Rio de Janeiro?"

"No, Dewey, he's talking about Rio de Janeiro, Nebraska," Louie replied sarcastically. "Of course he means Rio de Janeiro, Brazil! Where else do you think Uncle Donald's Brazilian friend is talking about?"

Another voice, one laced with a heavy Scottish accent, cut off Dewey's retort before a fight could break out between the two brothers. José figured that it was Donald's Uncle Scrooge, the richest duck in the world. Even in Brazil, Scrooge was famous for his adventures and wealth. Of course, even when the Three Caballeros rode, back during Scrooge's adventuring days, Donald didn't like to bring up that the old billionaire was his uncle, despite the fact that the two ducks were adventuring together at the time.

José put two and two together, and figured out how Huey bought the plane ticket. He probably swiped Scrooge's credit card, figuring with his billions, surely his great uncle would miss the few hundred bucks. And being as usually reliable and trustworthy as he is, Huey's family would have never thought to check credit card statements. The thought that he would steal money from his wealthy great uncle and leave the country probably never crossed their minds, especially after he blind-sided them.

Donald still had said nothing, even during his other two nephews' bickering. If José had to guess, either Donald was still trying to process the fact that his nephew was in Brazil or he was trying to prevent himself from exploding with rage. The parrot had to admit, parenthood had really changed his friend for the better. After all, three mischievous triplets plus Donald's explosive temper would not be a pretty combination. He would have had to learn some anger management techniques, or at least be able to redirect his anger to something other than his beloved nephews.

"How long has Huey been in Brazil?" Donald finally asked.

José shrugged. "Eu não sei, meu amigo. He showed up on my doorstep around five o'clock in the afternoon, but I have a feeling he's been here longer than that. But trust me, my friend, if had known he was here—"

Donald sighed. "I know, Joe. This isn't your fault. Is Huey okay?"

"Sim, sim. He's shaken up, but he's fine. He and I, we had a nice, long conversation over dinner," the parrot informed his friend. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I don't think he's actually sleeping, so I can get him, if you want to speak with him."

"I know he's not sleeping," Donald replied. "Put him on."

"Okay, just let me go get him," José said, nodding, before adding softly, "And Donald…don't be too harsh on him. I don't think he meant to cause the trouble he did. I think he created a problem that he didn't know how to fix. He's just a scared kid."

He carefully set down the phone on the counter before Donald could reply and headed towards his guest room where the young duckling was. He had half a mind to turn around and tell his friend that the boy was asleep and to call back in the morning, but he knew that would only be delaying the inevitable. After all, Huey had to eventually face his family, and Donald and José had to make arrangements as to how he was getting home.

He knocked on the door. "Are you awake, Huey?"

There was no answer. Maybe he really was asleep, though he could simply be ignoring his uncle's friend in hopes that he wouldn't actually have to talk to his family. José was sympathetic, but he knew it was probably better for him to talk to Donald now when the older duck was tired, as opposed to the morning when he would be fully rested.

José knocked again. "I know you are awake, meu pequeno amigo. Your Tio Donald wants to speak with you. He's very worried."

There was silence for a moment before the parrot heard soft, hesitant steps on the creaky hardwood floor. Slowly, Huey opened the door. His eyes were rimmed red and he was sniffling, indicating that he had been crying again. José said nothing as he offered the duckling a small, reassuring smile and lead him to the kitchen.

"The phone is on the counter," José informed him.

Huey walked over to the counter and reached for the phone, but he quickly stopped himself. He flinched and quickly withdrew his hand, contemplating on whether or not he should pick up and talk to his uncle. He turned around and looked a José, a helpless look in his glassy eyes. "W-What do I say?"

The parrot shrugged. "I can't tell you what to say, but you should say something. Better to get it over with sooner rather than later."

The duckling didn't like this answer, but he grabbed the phone. Chewing his lip, he slowly brought it to his ear. "H-Hello? ... I'm fine, Uncle Donald. Yes, it's really me."

He was silent for a few moments as he listened to whatever his uncle was telling him. Tears began to well up in his eyes again as Donald continued to talk. José could only imagine that his friend was lecturing his young nephew. Huey let out a choked sob. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Donald! I didn't mean to scare you like that! I wasn't thinking! A-And I just didn't know what to do!"

He began to cry as he listened to whatever his Uncle Donald had to say in response. José knew that Donald wasn't yelling — he'd be able to hear if he was. But perhaps, Huey would have rather been yelled at than had to listen to his uncle's disappointment.

"Okay… Okay… I understand," the duckling mumbled tearfully. "H-He's still here… Okay, Uncle Donald… I will… I love you too…"

He handed the phone back to José before going to the table and sitting down. "Alô?"

"Listen, José," Donald said wearily, "I don't know what time I'll be there, but I'm planning on catching the next flight to Rio. Can I trust you to take care of Huey until then?"

"É claro, meu amigo. I would be happy to," José replied. "Just call and let me know when you get here."

"Yeah, I will. I'll see you tomorrow. And please make sure Huey gets some sleep."

"Don't worry about it, Donald. I'll see you tomorrow. Boa noite."

"Goodnight to you too, Joe," Donald said before hesitantly adding, "and thank you. How can I ever repay you?"

"Ah, it was nothing, meu amigo. I know you would do the same for me if it was one of my sobrinhos. But regardless, de nada. I'll see you tomorrow. Tchau!"

And with that, José hung up the phone. He turned to Huey, who had his face buried in his arms on the table. The poor kid looked so miserable. The parrot walked over and put a hand gently on his shoulder. "Come on, Huey. It is time for bed. You're tio says to get some sleep, and he'll see you tomorrow."

He watched as the duckling wordlessly got up and trudged towards the guest room, fearing tomorrow. Really, José didn't blame him. Who knew what kind of trouble he'd be in once Donald arrived?

The parrot pulled out one of his signature cigars, mentally reminding himself that he was supposed to be quitting, and that his dear friend would murder him if the duck ever found out that he had been smoking around his nephew. But after the day he had, he needed a smoke.

God forbid if he ever found himself in Donald's position. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

* * *

"Are you mad at me?"

The obvious answer was yes, Huey knew. He had stolen his great uncle's credit card (something that he would have to sort out with Scrooge when they got home, Donald told him), ran away from home, gotten on a plane to Brazil without his legal guardian's knowledge, wandered around a huge city in foreign country for a whole two days before letting anyone know he was alright, scared his family half to death, gotten someone who was a complete stranger to him involved in their family drama, and made his uncle fly all the way to Brazil to pick him up and take him home.

Donald had every right to be furious with him. In all honesty, the oldest triplet wouldn't be upset if he ended up on the receiving end of his uncle's infamous explosive temper. He would completely deserve it. He wouldn't be surprised if his Uncle Donald even hated him for running away like that.

Donald acknowledged Huey out of the corner of his eye before returning to the paper he picked up in Rio. The older duck didn't understand a word of Portuguese, but he was pretending he did in order to control his temper. He hadn't said a word since José had left the airport. The oldest nephew wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Huey bit his lip and looked away in shame. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Donald. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I just wasn't thinking. It was stupid of me to run away."

There was a moment of silence before his uncle responded. "You're right, it was a very stupid thing for you to do. You could have gotten hurt or worse. You could've been killed. You made us all worry. We had no idea where you were or even if you were still alive. I'm extremely disappointed with you."

Somehow, Uncle Donald's "disappointed dad lectures" (or at least what Huey assumed were the type of lectures that dads gave when their kids did something bad) were worse than facing Uncle Donald's temper. When it came to anger, that was something that Huey shared with his uncle. Huey was the one who had inherited his uncle's temper, though he was slower to anger and had a lot more control over it. In fact, Huey would rather his uncle be causing a scene, screaming incoherently at him because he could deal with that so much easier than the silent, bitter anger that usually accompanied these types of uncle-nephew talks.

"But," Donald said as he continued, "you're not completely at fault."

Huey turned and faced his uncle, his eyes widened in shock. "B-But I chose to run away."

"Yes," Donald agreed, "but I know how hurt you were finding out those things about your mother."

It was the first time since the argument five days ago that Della had been brought up. Huey knew his uncle didn't like talking about her and he understood why. Della had been Donald's twin sister. He had a lifetime of memories with her before she vanished. How did he talk about what happened with her children when she was a complete stranger to them? When they didn't know her the way he did? When ten years later, it was still too painful look back on all those memories?

But now, Donald knew it was time to address the elephant in the room. He knew it was the only way to even start to fix the mess that Della Duck had created when she left ten years ago — whether or not she had ever intended to create the problems that resulted from her choice to take the Spear of Selene.

"You kids always idolized her," Donald continued. "I should have told you sooner, but I guess I just didn't want to knock her off this pedestal you put her on. Besides, sometimes it's better to just move on."

Huey studied his hands to distract himself. He knew that Uncle Donald was referring directly to him with that last sentence. When Huey was little, he always tried to imagine what it would be like for his mother to waltz back into his life. It was his birthday wish every year for three whole years.

But when he was six, he decided that it was best to put Della to rest and stop wishing for her to come back. It was just too painful and too disappointing with every year that passed. So, Huey had accepted that he and his brothers were orphans, and all that they had in the world was each other and Uncle Donald.

For his seventh birthday, he told Uncle Donald that he wanted to have a little funeral for Della (and their father, whoever he was), so that he, his brothers, and his uncle all had some sort of closure. It was the only time he could ever remember his uncle actually addressing her absence to Dewey, Louie, and him.

"W-What did you put in that box? You know, the one we sent out to sea?" He could distinctly remember the old cardboard box, with "Mommy and Dad" scrawled sloppily on the top by three seven year-olds with a box of magic markers. Donald had taken it in the middle of the night and duct taped it shut; however it was heavier than an empty box when they cast it out to sea at the "funeral," so the three boys always knew their uncle put something in it.

"Just a few of your mother's clothes that I never got around to throwing out. I figured that wouldn't be too damaging to the environment," Donald replied. "Don't change the subject. I know you weren't thinking when you decided to run away. I know how hurt can make you make stupid decisions. That still doesn't make what you did okay, though."

"I know," Huey replied solemnly. "I really am sorry, Uncle Donald."

"Stop apologizing," Donald scolded gently. "You're in huge trouble when we get home. You have to pay Uncle Scrooge back for the plane ticket, so you'll have to talk to him about that. As for your punishment for running away, you're grounded until I say otherwise. You're lucky I'm so understanding, otherwise it would be much, much worse than that."

"I understand, Uncle Donald."

"And Huey?" He looked at his uncle, who gave him a small, sad smile. "We're not done talking about your mom. When we get home, we're going to sit down with Dewey, Louie, and Uncle Scrooge and have the talk we should have had the day we moved into the mansion."

He pulled Huey into his arms and started stroking the top of his head. The duckling wrapped his arms around Donald and buried his face in his uncle's shirt.

"I was so worried about you, Huey," Donald whispered in a shaky voice that told the oldest triplet that his uncle was on the verge of tears. "I love you so much. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you."

"I love you too, Uncle Donald," Huey replied softly.

The two of them sat like that for a while, uncle cradling his beloved nephew, never wanting to let him go again. While things were far from okay, they were starting to look up. It would be a long road to recovery after what had set these events in motion, but they would make it through together as a family.

* * *

 **Disclaimer here, I don't speak a word of Portuguese (very basic Spanish and German, a few words of Slovene, and intermediate Italian, yes; Portuguese, not at all). I used an online translator, so it might not be 100% accurate (especially since online translators don't always show the different dialects, so the words might not be completely right for Brazilian Portuguese). Seriously, I can barely spell the word "Portuguese" half the time, so if I have butchered any part of the Portuguese language, whether it is a completely wrong word or a word not used in Brazilian Portuguese, please let me know right away and I will happily fix it.**

 **Obviously, all these characters belong to Disney. I saw the Duck Family Fic Challenge on tumblr and got inspired, so let me know what you think. Seriously, please leave a review and let me know what you think. This is only my second Ducktales fanfic (and my first time writing José) and I'm a little shaky on the characterization, so any feedback at all would be greatly appreciated.**

 **I also posted this on tumblr, so if you all could go and follow me on tumblr (the exact same user name as my pen name on here), that would be absolutely fantastic. I'd love to interact with you guys more, plus it helps me get more comfortable with a platform I'm not familiar with.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed, and thank you so much for your support.**

 **Translations:**

 **Menino- boy**

 **Tio- uncle**

 **(Meu) Amigo- (my) friend**

 **Não- no**

 **Sim- yes**

 **Olá- hello**

 **Sobrinho- nephew**

 **Eu não sei- I don't know**

 **Pequeno- small**

 **Alô- hello (I read that it is used to answer the phone in Brazil)**

 **É claro- Of course (I'm not 100% sure about this because it doesn't look right; it looks like "it is clear" but that could be my Italian leaking through)**

 **Boa noite- Goodnight**

 **De nada- You're welcome**

 **Tchau- Goodbye (I believe this is a very informal way to say goodbye)**


End file.
